


Saron's Project: Part 1

by Cyndicate



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 19:27:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19157440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyndicate/pseuds/Cyndicate
Summary: Draco/Harry fiction written as a present.





	Saron's Project: Part 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Saron](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saron/gifts).



> I am writing this for two reasons, as a present, and as an exercise. I am trying to stay true to the characters as much as possible while writing about a relationship dynamic brought on by some sort of mutual desperation as well as trying to find their own sexual voice. In the end, this is mainly a present for a family member that I promised to write years ago. I am finally sitting down to put fingers to keyboard.

Saron’s Project

“Seventeen. Should I know who I am at seventeen? Cho inspired me intellectually, but there was always something that was just off about my feelings towards her. I can’t say that I felt un-attracted towards her, but there was just something missing when I kissed her.”  
***  
The stairs to the Slitherin common room tapped sharper and a little slower as Draco descended with a red face and tightness in his lips. He paused at the threshold of the main sitting room as he leered around to see if there was anyone to witness his rage. To make sure that the people who already saw him lose the calm and collected exterior he usually tried to exhibit. Fortunately, there were few people in the room and all those were caught up in their own conversations and had not looked up to see him in the doorway. He took a breath, held it, and slowly released it in an attempt to calm his emotions as well as try to return some normal colour to his face, which must be as red as that gaudy Gryffindor banner.  
He didn’t put much stock in the muggle shrink his mother made him go see. And how could it even help since the Dark Lord tasked him with such an ignoble responsibility? What would a muggle understand about the stresses of being a warlock anyway? It was just a waste of gold and the time it took to find someone to exchange the wizarding money for muggle currency. He knew his father would kill his mother if he found that she had taken him to counseling and doubly because he was seeing a bloody muggle. As much as his mother cared about magical purity, she seemed to care more about him. About the only useful thing that had come of all of it were these stupid breathing exercises to help calm him down and fight the panic attacks that he had been having since so much had been asked of him. PTSD? Malfoys didn’t suffer from PTSD.  
He strode forward into the room feeling marginally more in control and some of the heat gone from his face. A first year named Astrid looked up at him as he passed and looked as if she was about to ask him something, but she quickly swallowed whatever she was going to say as he shot her a withering look that said, “don’t fuck with me right now.” The last thing he needed was some first year asking stupid questions and flaring up his just calmed nerves. Word had it that her great grandparents were muggles. How could the sorting hat let those kinds of people into Slytherin? It knew Salizar’s wishes as well as anyone, but it seemed to prioritize other qualities as a prerequisite to be sorted into Slytherin. He would really have to talk to Professor Severus about that, but he would have to go do Dumbledoor and… He felt his heart start to pick up speed as a fresh surge of panic hit his brain. He picked up his pace through the room as he ran through his breathing exercises again and did his best to clear his mind. By the time he was half way down the stairs to Crabbe’s room, the panic had began to ebb. He was getting better at warding off the panic attacks.  
He knew that Crabbe would be in his quarters at this time because he had fallen into a habit of stealing something sweet from wherever he could find it and enjoying it as he listened to his favourite radio show. Crabbe may be stupid, but he was loyal and he actually listened instead of just waiting for his turn to talk, which was a good thing because anything he said was not worth hearing.  
Just as he suspected, Crabbe was sitting on his bed encircled by crumbs from some pastries sitting in a pile on a plate beside him. “Crabbe,” Draco spat out. “Where did you nick those from this time?”  
Speaking as parsels of breading came flying out of his mouth, Crabbe replied, “I saw them cooling on a window sill by the kitchens. Look, I think a student from Hufflepuff was making them for something.” He held up a pastry, and in yellow, it had written, ‘Life may not be fair, but that doesn’t mean I cant be.’  
“They left off a comma in the word ‘can’t’” Crabbe smiled.  
Draco just blinked as he tried to comprehend the absurdity of what he just heard. He blinked and shook his head. “I just had a run in with our favourite person.”  
“Snape?” Crabbe asked.  
“No, you dumb son of a bitch. That was sarcasm.”  
Crabbe looked at him blankly.  
“Harry fucking Potter,” Draco said after a moment.  
“But we hate him.”  
“Yes, Crabbe. Yes we do. He ran into me in the hall just now. Literally ran into me. That little Weasley bitch was walking in front of me and he turned to look at her as she passed by and he just walked right into me. He started to apologize until he realized it was me and then started to reach for his wand. Well, the joke’s on him because I already had mine pointing at his throat.”  
“You do have a quick wand hand,” Crabbe said spitting out more crumbs.  
“Pansy said that Cho had complained to some of her friends at how Potter seemed somehow less than her dead boyfriend. Can you imagine that? A dead boyfriend is more pleasing than an alive Harry Potter.”  
Crabbe grabbed another pastry off the plate and shoved the whole thing in his mouth. “Maybe she is remembering that nerd from Ravenclaw with more fondness because he is dead.”  
Draco furrowed his brow. “Shut up, Crabbe. What do you know anyway?”  
Crabbe shrugged and grabbed another pastry.  
***  
Harry walked down the hall toward the great hall to grab a bite to eat after a tough Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Why finally allow Snape to teach this class? Everyone knew that he had always coveted that position, but he was close enough to a dark wizard himself to really excel at knowing how to fight it, or perhaps, help him to give into his own demons. What a shit year this is turning out to be. The good news of Snape going to Defense was that he could finally relax a bit in Potions. Hermione may not be happy about the way he was going about it, but he needed something. There was so much stress everywhere he looked. Ron’s newfound attraction to Lavender should make him happy for his friend, but there was a pallor around everything when Hermione was around. There was also the lessons with Dumbledore, a constant reminder that he could never be a normal person. The fame was fantastic at first, and then he missed it when everybody had gotten to know him and realized he was just a normal kid, like themselves. Then there were those who seemed to never get over it. The fame was a wrathful seed that germinated and grew in their minds to where he could see the death blooms blossoming behind their spiteful eyes. “I can’t dwell on all of this,” he thought. “I will drive myself crazier than Luna.”  
Veering off to the right as he rounded the last corner before the entrance to the great hall, he ducked into the boys lavatory to have a piss and a wash. He glanced at the line of urinals to see which one had the least amount of wetness on the ground. They were all bad. How could people aim their wands when they couldn’t even aim their dicks? With a sigh, he made sure his shoes were tied and straddled the puddle at the one closest to him. A few moments he began, he heard the door open, a brief moment of silence, and then footsteps as it shut.  
“Potter! I see you brought your tweezers with you.”  
Harry sighed as he cursed his bad timing. He had learned in Magical Creatures that there is an oddity in the animal kingdom that every animal takes about 20 seconds to void its bladder, no matter how big or small. Surely Draco would not punch or hex him while he was taking a leak.  
“Very funny, Malfoy.” Thankfully his twenty seconds were nearly up. “I always tend to think of your mother when I have my hand on my cock,” Harry quipped as he shook off the remnant, zipped, and rounded to face Draco. As he did, Draco pulled out his wand, took three strides and grabbed Harry by the heck of his shirt, pointing his wand right under Harry’s chin.  
“Don’t you dare speak of my mother that way, you fucker,” he hissed. Pulling him closer, to the point that their noses were nearly touching, he whispered, “I should…” He trailed off and held Harry there. They stared each other in the eyes for a few tense moments, neither of them moving. Neither of them daring to breathe. Harry was at a disadvantage and he dare not go for his wand. He was completely at the mercy of Malfoy. “I never noticed how silver his eyes are,” Harry thought.  
Finally, Draco pushed him away, turned and stormed out of the bathroom.  
“His eyes are so silver, like the mists in moonlight.”  
***


End file.
